Just go to bed, now. Quickly. Quickly and slowly. - J. D. Salinger

There isn't anyone anywhere who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know — listen to me, now — don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.

Every time you mention some guy that's strictly a bastard — very mean, or very conceited and all — and when you mention it to the girl, she'll tell you he has an inferiority complex. Maybe he has, but that still doesn't keep him from being a bastard, in my opinion.

For joy, apparently, it was all Franny could do to hold the phone, even with both hands.